Hinged Eggs Break Easy
by WaddleBuff
Summary: He hasn't met her in years, and quickly rediscovers a love he thought he had lost. She takes him to church. [smut]
1. passover

**passover.**

"Y-You?"

I called out the name cautiously, my inquiry directed towards the grey-haired girl locking her apartment door. I had just gotten home from work a little past 6, and I had just caught her coming out of her apartment; my keys suddenly hung forlorn in my lock. She was new, a neighbor who had just moved in the week before. This was my first time actually seeing her.

And I swore to God it was someone I've seen before.

"You…Watanabe?"

The girl whipped her head towards me then, and I caught them: the sparkle of blue that was impossible to forget. My throat felt a little dry and my eyes latched onto her soft lips that fell open in surprise.

As much as I thought it was her, it _couldn't_ be her. It just couldn't.

She gave me a once-over. I did the same, noting how cute she looked in that infinity scarf, in the scruffy baby blue varsity jacket that was so baggy it almost covered her short shorts.

"Yeah? Who ar-"

Her voice trailed off. A silence pervaded the space between us, and I was left looking at my neighbor with the same disbelief that suddenly began to churn in the look she gave me. Recognition sparked.

"No…" the girl said, and her lips curled into a playful smile, a playful smile that was impossible to forget.

She turned her head slightly, giving me a sideways squint as if I was playing a trick on her. I wanted to give her the same look, if I wasn't so preoccupied looking so dumbfounded.

"No," she shook her head in disbelief, the smile growing wider, cheeks peppered with an excited blush. "Taft? Taft Miller, is that you?"

This was it. That confirmed that my new neighbor really was _her. _I tried my best to reply without a hint of that awkward bemusement but-

"Y-Yeah! The one and only."

-that was a lost cause, as I dumbly put my hands on my hips.

You let out a squeal and within moments, she strode over to crash into my chest in an ecstatic hug. I almost lost my balance from the force of her impact, but I returned her embrace all the same. In her excitement, the white dad hat on her head plopped next to our feet, but it didn't seem like she cared. She was laughing now, her breaths and shuddering lilts softly pressing into me from her soft breasts. I couldn't help but laugh with her. Her scent wallowed up to me from her scalp- with her in my arms like this, I remembered the dance we shared on prom night.

When she withdrew and looked up at me with eyes vibrant as I remembered, I felt my cheeks ache and realized I was smiling as wide as she was.

"God, how long has it _been_!"

She asked, but we both knew the answer. Just a formality, but if it was with You, I could wade through as many formalities as she wanted.

"Since graduation…"

"No way," she said in a gasp,stooping down to pick up her hat. "That long?"

Another formality. These were the usual questions I expected whenever I ran into someone back from high school. But there was a sincerity in her voice and her eyes that I couldn't shake, even when we both were just knowingly going through the motions; her words had weight even if they were supposed to be frivolous social fodder.

I shrugged obligingly.

"I guess so." Then, with a wry smile, "But it's not like you ever bothered to keep in touch…"

All at once the brief procedural of expected questions melted away, and You's eyes lit up brighter. She scoffed, cocking her brow.

"It's not like you did either, jerk!"

A punch on my shoulder. I reeled back. I clutched the area as if it really stung, and then I looked at her. _Glared _at her. Wordlessly I raised my hand, my index finger, middle finger, and thumb forming a fleshy pistol. I aimed for her head. You looked down in horror at down the barrel of the gun…

Then there was this… moment where we suddenly just became self-aware, grasping the situation we were in. Mere moments after conventional conversation and now?

You looked up from the finger gun I still had pointed at her. And then she laughed. I followed her not a moment after, and we just stood there, laughing our asses off, with her choking out "_Stupid, _Taft, you're still so _stupid!_" as she struggled to breathe while my ears turned red.

Just like that, I was a teenager again.

It took a while for us to calm down, wipe the tears away, but when it was over, You and I sort of deflated when we shared a moment to really just…appreciate the fact that we were standing mere feet away from each other. She smiled a smile that made me feel like I was more than a guy in a cheap polyester suit, working a dead-end gig down the street at the Wells Fargo.

The moment passed. I turned away first.

"Well uh, I'm gonna go stuff myself with pizza rolls and watch some hentai. If you ever need company, you know where to f-"

"Uhhh, no you're not," You said suddenly, shaking her head. She was suddenly tugging at my sleeve and I felt my feet drifting towards her.

"Weren't you just leaving to go somewhere?"

"Yeah I was just gonna go to Barnes or something but not anymore. Because of _your _lack of an effort, we have years to catch up on." she said.

I didn't say much else in protest, and we shuffled down the stairwell to her beat-up Kia and soon we were on the off-ramp on the 5 to downtown with her beat-up speakers blasting her favorite Strokes album. It all moved so fast, but it all moved so naturally, and my cheeks began to really ache with the smile that I couldn't seem to ease out of.

I didn't even realize I left my keys in the door.

We drifted through the Tricity for a couple hours. Taco stop here, boba there, walking through a dead mall here. It was as if nothing had changed, and soon enough _I _was the one being an idiot and cracking stupid jokes and asking her all sorts of stupid, mundane questions just so I could hear her answer, just so I can see her laugh when I'd give my own stupid, mundane answers.

"Seriously though, if my dick glowed in the dark, that'd be like _ten _fucking times more beneficial than my nips glowing in the dark," I said as we sat out of the back trunk of her Kia, staring out at the refinement plant behind the Del Taco, watching the flumes of white steam curl and stack and roil from the chimneys. A churro lay neglected in my lap; my hands were too busy helping me in my presentation. "Like if I'm walking around my room, right, and let's say I dropped my phone and the light switch is too far away for me to get up and walk there. All I'd do is pump a few strokes, and _bam!_ instant lifesaver. If I had my _nipples _glow after a few strokes, I'd have to crawl on the floor like a goddamn fool just so I could even see the floor. With that much effort of getting onto my hands and knees, I might as well just walk over to the light switch and do it the normal way."

You was looking at me in the way that I remembered her looking at me: she peered at me with attentive blue sparkles, shaking her head occasionally, giggling or laughing to spur me on, and, the part that made me feel warmer than I ever could in the blanket we shared that night, the way her lips curled to her cheeks, as if saying that every word that came from me was wanted, that what _I _had to say was wanted, no matter how stupid it was.

"What's with your obsession with dicks?" she asked.

"_Excuse _me? The question was whether I wanted a glowing dick (which is objectively more convenient and logical) or if I wanted glowing nipples, which, is fucking dumb. How is that even-"

"No dude," You shook her head, adamantly. She took a finger and flicked it at my nose. "_you _are just obsessed with dicks."

"But dicks were part of the _question_, you idiot."

"Yeah, but who brought _up _the question?"

She laughed when I just told her to shut up, and proceeded to tell me with pride that she would _rock_ glowing nips if she ever had them, to which I said she was better off taping a glowing dick between her legs, which was infinitely more useful.

And so on and so forth. The churro was cold by the time we rolled out of that parking lot.

Not a single minute in those hours of fucking around town was dedicated to _actually _catching up, but I realized neither of us cared. We weren't catching up; we were making up for lost time. Time we didn't even know we lost until that night, and God did it feel good.

We found ourselves in a sports bar. It was almost midnight at that point, but we were still as wired as when she crashed into a hug in front of my door that afternoon.

There were green streamers and tacked-on shamrocks for St. Patrick's. There was a booth in a corner of the creaky wooden joint, the only empty place we could that night other than the bar. It was packed with a bunch of salty middle-aged blue-collar workers, some folks from the salt-water refinery downstream of the river, their girlfriends, a lot of others going solo, looking for bored middle-aged tail, or just taking a load off from their 9 to 5.

We had a bit of a tousle with who'd be settling up the tab. The bartender would have none of our shit, and said she'd close her eyes and pick out which credit card slipped between her extended fingers. I won out in the end, and soon we were about three or four beers deep.

The band onstage kept singing Shania Twain but we were a bit too loud that night to care, anyway. We kept on just messing around until five beers in, we settled down.

You surprised me again by suddenly asking questions that were _usually_ things you'd ask when you brought someone out to catch up. And soon, I found myself spilling everything that I'd been up to. There was no filter or any sort of restraint when I was with her, and You accepted it all with a quiet smile until she'd interject something snarky. It was as I remembered it.

I realized I never actually drank with You. Even at parties I'd catch her at a distance and approach to share some laughs with a Solo cup in hand, but we never sat down to actually have a good time _revolving _around booze.

Soon I was asking _her _things. The scratchy voice of the lady onstage occupied the space between us as You's expression grew distant. Her eyes dimmed and I caught the sparkle of the gold anchor-shaped pendant her father had given her before he passed. Instantly I knew it'd been a while since she had to open up about things, but it only took a few swirls of her finger around her empty glass before she did.

"Yeah…the Navy was a pipe dream. I took part in basic training, shipped off to the Great Lakes and all that, but after a while I just realized…maybe I was just doing it because I missed him. Maybe I wasn't really doing it for myself, you know?"

She looked up at me for a moment. I tried to give her my most reassuring eyes.

She smiled.

"So I dropped out. Got sent back here to the Tricity. Lived with my mom for a bit, worked in the glorious world of retail, and then out of nowhere, I found this online…collective I guess, for fashion design. Soon enough, I was helping them by giving critiques and just quality checks even though the only background I have is from the time back in Senior year when I was in the design club and fucking around with Ms. Martinez' endless supply of fabrics for the drama club.

"One thing led to another, and now I'm on the group's main board, and soon I had enough to move out. I lived in Cannawick for a while, kept working from home while keeping my sidejob at the Kohl's until I began working commissions and quality checks fulltime from home. Stayed there almost a year until last week," You concluded in a sigh, and looked up at me again with a lazy smile. "when I moved in next to you."

I smiled back and took another sip from my beer. I watched the band onstage and let the silence settle in between us. The chronicle of her life up to this point had much more material than mine, yet I had taken at least thrice as long telling it.

"Doesn't seem like much has changed, though…"

I let that slip without really meaning to. You chuckled all the same.

"Yeah. Even though we always talked about how much we wanted it all to be different," she said. The distant look was still in her eyes and I couldn't help but to feel an ache when I saw her longing smile. "Looks like the only real difference now is that it's only us two left here."

Another silence. I wanted to ask if she kept up with anyone else. The other guys she hung with in high school. A list of names flickered through my head, but I knew the answer.

"Hey, at least we're neighbors now!"

I tried, but the melancholy that dampened the pink of her cheeks was too heavy. She obliged a small chuckle.

More silence.

Then,

"Hey, Taft?"

"Yeah?"

"Let's do some shots."

I was a lightweight, always have been. So being that many beers deep was already taking its effect on me. Plus, _someone_ still needed to bring us home that night…

I ended up taking one shot, while I watched her do three. It amazed me how much she could handle, but by the fourth one, I stopped her from getting up to ask for another.

"Jesus, you really are making me regret putting up the tab."

You giggled. She was finally feeling it, and she raised her shot glass at eye-level. She peered into it, letting out another slurred titter.

"Disgusting," she said blissfully. "This shit? Alcohol is so _disgusting_. It just tastes…so gross.."

I couldn't formulate a response before she downed the shot. The bottom curls of her grey bob were beginning to waver more freely now.

It was nearing about one in the morning, and if the hours I spent with her sober were a blur, the time it took me driving her back home after the sports bar was blurrier. We started singing and rapping and laughing, and I felt high. The streetlights of the 99 passed in a rhythmic orange metronome through the windshield. She put her hand on my leg when we started listening to _Graduation_, and I loved how she clutched the fabric of my shitty black workpants when she got really into the songs.

Just like her smile, You's enthusiasm for drunken sing-a-longs was infectious.

_And I wonder…if you know…what it means…_

"DO YOU EVEN REMEMBER WHAT THE ISSUE IS," she bellowed and looked at me expectantly.

"YOU JUST TRYNA FIND WHERE THE _TISSUE _IS" I shot back at her, and she laughed and we kept spitting back and forth and I swore to God I was Kanye in Madison Square.

I drove as recklessly as the songs demanded on those empty streets. On the straightaways I'd drive real fast with the windows rolled down, and the smell of the Pacific would fill our noses. She'd laugh at some jab I gave or when I dared reach over and poked a tickle at her side. Her face would appear and disappear underneath the passing orange lights. It was hard to stay focused on the way home when she would glow so bright like that, like magic.

We finally got back home and I rolled our car back to her parking spot. She was still clutching my pants when I made the move to get out of the car. Then there was the click of a seatbelt hastily unbuckled, and the clang of the buckle smashing against the window before her other hand grabbed my button-down and pulled. I looked at her. And I froze when her face was suddenly closing in, coming in closer and closer.

"Y-You what-"

"Wait, wait…" she said, and suddenly all I could see where her blue. Her hot breath misted onto my lips and I could smell the alcohol on her tongue. She was smiling, she obviously thought this was still us just fucking around, but the way my heart began blasting in my chest was no joke. I was sobering up, fast. "I just want to see if your eyes are still as brown as they were back then…"

We sat there for what seemed like forever. Prom night flashed through my head again, and my lips twitched with the possibility that maybe I could finally muster up the courage to give her the kiss I never gave. But I sat frozen as she kept looking at me, peering deep into my face for something I didn't know I had.

Then, it was as if I shoved an ice cube down her shirt. Her eyes widened, huge, and it was like she was sobered up. She slowly withdrew, and we kept looking at each other's faces, her blush pinker than what booze could manage to do. I've never seen her make that expression at me, and I was still frozen stiff.

"I uh, yeah I forgot my contacts," she said, quickly. I forgot she wore contacts. At the moment, I didn't really care. I was still frozen at the way she looked at me.

She didn't apologize though, and that merely made the onset of tension congeal thicker.

Wordlessly I got out of the car. I felt like my heart was beating so fast that it sounded like a steady hummingbird hum. Wordlessly she followed me, up the stairwell, third level of apartment block D. Wordlessly, I went to my door, and I just accepted the fact that my keys were in the lock as I waited for her to arrive at her own door.

I kept looking down at my feet until I heard the jangle of her keys. Gulping I looked up at her, and when our eyes met I gulped again. I mustered up the best smile I could.

What the fuck was this?

"Hey I had fun tonight."

"Yeah."

No smile. No smile from _You Watanabe_. She didn't even put the key into the lock of her door, and just kept staring at my chest as if she could see right through me. I didn't know what else to do, so in my buzzed state I opened the door, gave her a "See you tomorrow?" and closed the door behind me.

She must have heard that I didn't lock it, because only a minute passed with me standing there like an idiot before I heard the hinges squeak open. I started. You stood there with that look on her face, and the blush that I knew for sure wasn't from the bottles of Coors.

Her lips opened as if to say something. They quivered, as if she was about to cry, but then, with a wry smile that denoted an insinuation of something I never thought I'd see from her, her fingers grasped the front of her varsity jacket, and in a spread of her arms she shrugged it off to the floor. Her infinity scarf followed suit, along with her white dad hat. She stepped out of her blue Doc Marten's and started coming towards me.

In the dim light of the hall, her skin practically glowed for me. Her full breasts swelled against her tight pink t-shirt, my eyes redirected towards the sensuous shudder of the thighs bared underneath the fabric of her short shorts and I found myself rooted to the floor, growing stiff in more ways than one.

"You…" I said, but the way I whispered her name would have been better off as a wordless whimper.

She had the right idea; her lips stayed wordless as she slipped her thumbs underneath the ruffled blazer of my suit, prompting me to shrug it to the floor. And they _stayed _wordless as she closed the distance between our bodies. Her fingers unbuttoned my shirt, and I could feel her heated breaths suddenly condensate onto my chest. Four buttons, and she spread the shirt apart, running her fingers down my collarbone to the "U" of my tank top.

I was made aware of how hard I was breathing. With how close we were standing and the way we looked at me I felt like we were in a jar without any holes for air. The feeling of her fingers against my neck was electricity that only grew stronger in voltage when the rest of her bare arms snaked around me as she tiptoed closer and closer to my face.

My hands clutched the small of her back. Her breasts swelled and pushed against my heaving chest. Closer her face came, like the way it did in the car, but the intent made all the difference. I knew what she wanted and I knew that I wanted it too. Her breath swirled and swirled, I lost myself in it as my own breath came out in shallow gasps, dry and desperate until those lips of hers pressed against mine…

And everything became crystal.


	2. good friday

It was a peck, barely anything. She withdrew, and once I saw her eyes and how she puckered herself for me, I was the one who pressed in. I felt her breathe out hotly as I deepened the next kiss. I brought her body closer to me with my forearm barred across her back and my hand clutching her side, my other arm cradled her and fingers buried into her hair.

We shared more, each kiss melting into another. She advanced forward, and I was forced to backstep until my back pressed against the wall. Her hands slid down my shirt, and pulled. She gave me ample space and soon my shirt was on the floor.

We separated, but barely. There was a mere inch between our mouths when we caught our breath, my exhales were her inhales, her exhales were my inhales. When I opened my eyes, her sparkling blue was the only thing I saw, and the only thing I cared to see. At this point my hands were under her shirt, firmly pressed against the warm skin of her wide hips. I felt her open mouth curl as best it could into the semblance of a grin, then I felt her press more of her weight into my chest as she balanced on one foot…and brought a knee to my crotch. Up and down, she teased. She got a shuddering whimper of hot breath between her teeth as a response.

She was the one who crashed forward then, and our kisses continued. Her tongue expertly slipped through the open fortifications of my lips, and I groaned. I brought my hands up and up and up her smooth back, finding the elastic of her brastrap. I made the motion to unclasp it, maybe try and partly pry her off so we could slip her out of her shirt, but she didn't bother separating, so we kept making out like that: her covered breasts pressing hotly against mine, her interlocked fingers tight against my neck as she swapped the taste of her saliva with mine.

I breathed in heavy huffs through my nostrils, and at this distance it was easy to smell the myrrh of her hair. She didn't want to stop slipping her tongue against mine, mashing our lips together in a heated, wet embrace, and I didn't either.

I don't know when it really stopped, but I was pinned without any intent of stopping her at that point. She controlled the pace, and I went along for the ride without any protest.

By the time she slipped out of my mouth, we were panting. She looked up at me with two small trails of our spittle running down the sides of her lips. She took one of the hands that clutched my shoulders and slid it against the front of my body before padding her fingers and running it up and down my erection.

In that moment I was aware of two things:

she had somehow slipped me out of my trousers without me noticing my cock was so hard that its swollen head was pretty much almost peeking outside of the waistband of my boxers.

I almost tripped over the fabric pooled around my ankles when she took me by my hand and led me to my room. The fact that she knew it was a left turn down a short hallway in the second door to the right surprised me until I realized her apartment next door probably had an identical layout. I didn't have time to lament over the fact that my living space was a bit of a mess (including the several tissues that I didn't bother throwing away near my tub of Vaseline).

But she didn't care. She threw aside her shirt the moment I was seated on the bed. I barely finished casting aside my tank top when her arms reached behind and unclasped her bra. The sight of her breasts made the situation suddenly seem all too real and all too impossible.

Then she was on her knees, her fingers tugging, tugging at the waistband of my boxers. She moved fast, as fast as she had dragged me away from relaxing after another hell of tedium at the Wells Fargo, and before I knew it her lips were dragging against my cock, her nimble fingers pressed around its based as her tongue carpeted the bottom.

She was good, so fucking good that I couldn't help but tangle my fingers into her hair, and moan out her name as she sucked and sucked and kissed and licked until I was throbbing into my finish.

Cleanup was fast with the tissues next to my bed. I told her that I'd get a rubber from my wallet, but she fished out a few from the back pocket of her short shorts. The fact that she even had condoms _on _her suddenly sobered me up quick. Was she…really going to Barnes earlier today? Or was Barnes maybe just another guy? Did she always bring around Trojans...?

Of course, none of that mattered to me once she pushed aside her sky-blue panties after stroking me back to full mast and rolled the viscous plastic onto my cock. I had barely any time to process the sight of her pussy before You was riding me. Her fingernails dug into my stomach as hard as mine dug into her hips as she crashed down around me, over and over. I hadn't seen action in a few months and that lack of practice took its toll when I came after about ten minutes.

We were sweaty by then, but just as hungry as we were at the start of all of this, and I peeled off the ballooned condom around me to replace it. Nothing else really registered for me other than the fact that You Watanabe was now naked and bare for me only half a day or so after meeting with her after almost ten years of no contact. Her panties were thrown aside, leaving both of us just in our socks as I ate her out. She squealed and called out my name that made me feel light-headed. I wondered if the alcohol in her system was spurting out of her snatch; I swear nothing else was on my mind other than her body, as if all of my hormonal fantasies from my teenage years had manifested for me to devour.

It went on like that for a while, and by the time we burned through her supply of condoms, too tired to get up and find the condoms I had stashed in my wallet, her naked body was draped over mine, skin hot and sticky. We kissed a few pecks, my hands roaming up and down her back…then we shared a laugh, more kisses, another chuckle that shuddered down her thighs and her breasts through my entire body.

**good friday.**

Dark chocolate of unconsciousness soon overtook me, and I fell asleep with a smile. My dreams were filled with her. I replayed how her body was pliable and open for my touch. By the end of my sleep, my lips were swollen with things I wanted to say, my mind suddenly racing with the implications; it was an onset of emotions and confessions I had no place in feeling at my age. But I wanted to tell her, I needed to tell her.

Fortunately for my pride, I woke up under my blanket alone, still naked and covered in evidence that last night wasn't just an epic wet dream. Soreness pulsed in my legs as another testament to that.

I lay there to gather myself, playing back highlights from the night before. The sun began to creep up onto the side of my face through the blinds before I had the sense to look at my clock.

_10:36_

Shit, I was already late as hell.

I took another good ten minutes or so debating on whether or not to even show up before finally sliding off the bed and heading straight into the shower. By the time I was toweling myself in the swirling steam of the bathroom, I noticed it: I was smiling, grinning like a doofus the whole time. I didn't know how long I had been doing that before the shower, but I assumed I had that stupid grin plastered onto my face since I woke up.

I chuckled to myself as I got dressed; You had folded my clothes onto my nightstand, and had left a note hastily written in Sharpie on our receipt from Del Taco.

_Tailor!_

I shook my head, feeling the grin merely firm itself harder. Right before I left my room, I noticed something nestled at the foot of my bed: a pair of yellow socks.

It was around noon when I walked out of my apartment door. With socks in hand, I made one stride over to You's apartment, and rang the doorbell. I was late anyway, and I guess I just… really wanted to see her again.

She took a couple minutes, but eventually I heard the patter of her bare feet against the hardwood. The lock clicked open and she swung the door wide open.

"Mownin, Tffpht!" she said as best she could through her toothbrush. She gave me a tired smile, and her eyes drooped behind her glasses. I wanted to run my hand through the frizzled mess of her grey hair.

"Hey, I just uh, came to drop these puppies off." I raised the socks.

She made the motion to come in, so I did. The door shut behind me and I just noticed the fact that below her baggy navy blue shirt, she wasn't wearing pants. My eyes shot back upwards, but she was already strutting her way back to the bathroom. It was hard as shit to keep my eyes off the jiggle of her ass, especially since now I could really appreciate every detail of the skin of her legs while I was sober.

She led me to her bathroom and wordlessly pointed to the hamper next to her toilet. After spitting out the remnants of her toothpaste, she said she'd be right out and that I could help myself to some oj.

Her living room was a lot more cluttered than mine. I could see she wasn't kidding about the design gig; near the patio were at least four mannequins in various stages of design, the living room table was draped with different fabrics and littered with pins and strings and such, her couch had several different dresses, along with pants I assumed she bought for reference.

I was halfway done with my glass of orange juice by the time she came out, giving me another tired smile. She still only wore a shirt and a pair of panties. God, they hugged her hips so tight.

"Looks like someone's late to work," she yawned, taking a seat next to me and pouring herself a glass.

I smirked, wryly.

"No thanks to you."

She smiled against the rim of her glass as she raised it to her lips.

"Yeah…thanks for the drinks, I'll pay you back later."

That wasn't really what I was insinuating, but I took it anyway.

We made small talk for a bit, mostly initiated by me. Through the lenses of her glasses, I watched her tired eyes gradually, slowly light up to their usual luster.

"Well, I've really gotta go now, but I'll see you later," I said, putting on my blazer and giving her a friendly pat on the shoulder.

"Bring home that bacon, T."

She dismissed me with a gropeless smack on my ass as I walked out, and gave me one last wide smile that I reciprocated before her door closed in my face.

I kept that smile as I walked down the block to the Wells Fargo, and tried my best to keep it as the rest of the day went by, but something kept nagging at me. My boss gave me a quick little spiel about my lateness when I clocked out (it didn't seem that she cared too much at all), and on the walk home, I still got that strange tugging feeling.

It only got worse a few days later, when I realized exactly what was bothering me so much: everything was too normal.

Just a few days before I was shacking up with _You Watanabe_, the girl I had had more than a few indecent thoughts about, the girl who definitely grew more than just well into her body after graduation. She was a friend, of course, and I guess we were a little drunk, but there was no way her judgment was _that _clouded; for God's sake, we burned through at least 4 trojans until we fell asleep.

And yet, my life was back to normal. As normal as it could be having You as my neighbor. We'd interchangeably pay each other visits. Sharing breakfasts and such, or I'd drop in and plop onto her couch after work. But no matter how subtly or even bluntly I referred to our night together, I'd get nothing. As if she was intentionally just steering clear of the subject.

Yeah, of course it was still fun to talk to her. Her smile was pretty much a guarantee that I'd smile too, her laughs at my jokes encouraged me to keep spitting out stupider ones. It was all as perfect as it was the night before the sex.

It just…bothered me that for You, the sex was just an extension of that, instead of stepping over a boundary into something a little…_more_. Was sex that flippant and normal for her?

The nag itched and itched. I grew more tense as the weeklong mark went by, and more tense as more days tacked onto that. But You went on as normal, as if the night had never happened. Hell, with our stains washed off my body, my bedsheets and blankets washed, there wasn't anymore evidence that the night ever _did _happen.

That self-induced torture continued on until Friday night, a week and a half after the fact, when You showed up heaving a cooler full of Bud Light. She used all of her weight to press the cooler against the doorframe.

Breathlessly she said,

"Thought of you when I saw this cooler at Vons, so I just loaded it up with three six-packs."

"…you thought of me when you saw a cooler? Are you implying I'm an alcoholic?"

"No idiot, it's Friday night, let's pop in _Roger Rabbit _and get fucking wasted! Here," she shoved the cooler towards me, forcing me to quickly reach out and catch it. I reeled before crashing into the wall.

"You, Jesus-"

"Sorry!" she said with a smile, and that shut me up quick. She proceeded to let herself in, squeezing herself between me and the door before bouncing over to my couch. "Now let's pop this bad boy in and get started."

I followed her with a sigh. My hands were too full with the heavy-ass cooler (there must have been at least _two _bags of ice in that thing…) to lock the door that I slammed shut with my foot behind me. I could only handle a few strides before smashing the cooler onto the floor in front of the couch.

"How the hell did you-" I started, but You had just cast aside her oversized Mariners windbreaker, and my mouth stayed open at how her skin practically glowed in the light of my living room. She curled up on my couch, a flimsy a tank top and a pair of short shorts that was probably a size or two too small. She looked at me then, raising her hands behind her head, and I was oh-so-very tempted to determine whether or not she was wearing bra.

"Hmm?"

"Nothing," I sighed. I was hopeless around her. And she probably knew it too.

A few minutes later, and we were set. What I had planned as just a mindless night of Netflix binging was now dedicated to _Who Framed Roger Rabbit?_, cleaning out these six-packs, and acting as a breathing body-sized pillow for You to lean on.

I didn't mind the last one of those things in the slightest, and I especially loved it when she would laugh or point out one of her favorite parts. I had seen the film dozens of times, but God it was like watching it afresh with her.

We never got wasted.

By the middle of the second act, we were both feeling warm and pleasant. I crushed four cans, she crushed three; the movie was warming her up more than the booze. It only took one little flicker of eye contact.

My hand made the first move after that, warily sliding onto her thigh. She responded by placing her half-empty fourth can onto my coffee table and pushing her mouth against mine.

With the movie still going, we made out. It felt a long time coming, and I tried my best to hold back my smile. I knew we were both sober, so it kind of felt like we were having this kind of intimacy for the first time. The shirt I wore was effortlessly cast off in between the intervals of our liplocks, and her tank top was cast off just as easily, leaving her breasts bare for my touch (to my very happy surprise).

Instantly I felt that nagging itch well up in me again. My tongue loosened.

"You…" I said, almost in a whimper. "I need to-"

But I never got the chance. Her mouth was on mine again, and it would take more than the energy that I had to break from her. It was futile. I sank bank into the couch and let her wet lips take me into her deeper, and I kissed her back as if I hadn't seen her for years.

She grinded onto my lap with a precision that was something she could only have gained from practice. I was hard as a rock by the time she cast off the green of her short shorts, and I lifted my own ass to shove off my joggers onto my ankles.

There wasn't any time for foreplay. I wanted her on me, she wanted me inside her.

I grit my teeth as You's tight flesh sunk onto me in a tight wet grip. She shuddered in a gasp, keeping herself at arm's length once she had sucked me in completely. I shuddered in kind, and let out little high-pitched grunts as she rolled her hips towards me. My couch creaked with us, my bare ass scooting the cushion I sat on with every thrust.

I was spellbound. With the lamplight bathing her skin in gold and the LED of my TV outlining the shapely linework of her body, I saw everything You had to offer me, everything I couldn't see when we first fucked in the darkness of my room, drunk. Her breasts swayed and shook in luscious jiggles when she established a rhythm, her pert nipples pink and pebbly with arousal. My eyes traveled further down her curves. I eagerly drank in how different colors danced and vague splotches of shapes projected onto the small rolls of her skin, like a fleshy projector screen. Her body was just as easy to the touch as they were on the eyes, and my hands kept shifting and squeezing, my nails raking softly in small lines with her body's bouncing directing their movement, while my thumbs made small circles in the marshmallow folds of her tummy.

I was in the middle of watching how her adorable belly button seemed to wink at me every time she brought her thighs down onto mine in wet, fleshy smacks when I caught something peeking above the hand I had clasping her hip. She clenched around me then, and I could feel her starting to reach a climax. In the midst of her moans, I brought the hand at her hip down a bit, revealing a small, dark blue tattoo, right above her hipbone.

It shone with a small film of perspiration, it shape matching up with the pendant she always wore-I made a quick check, comparing its outline with the form of the gold bouncing over and over onto her skin. The main difference was the year beneath the bottom curve of the anchor; it was the year of our graduation. More importantly, it was the year she was shipped off to the Great Lakes for naval basic training.

The significance of the tattoo sunk into my chest right when You's body began to tremble as waves of release crashed through her nerves. She had gotten it probably right before she left. That blue icon of ink was the dream she had clutched, the dream she had inherited from the father she loved so much, the father swallowed up by the ocean before he got to see her grow up.

Now, it lay forlorn, and as You moaned, shuddering out my name as she leaned forward against my shoulder, I saw that blue promise of a forgotten dream covered up by my hand. You's hand made sure it _stayed _covered, whether intentionally or not, as her hips began moving again, splattering more of her hot quim between our legs.

She kissed me, slipping in satisfactory moans between my lips, and I started to wonder how many hands had veiled that tattoo before me. How many coolers had she brought over to ease the ache of a sunken pipe dream? How many hands had gripped and smothered that anchor's luster in favor of the quick release of frivolous intimacy? How many men had she used to dull the aching pang of realizing her dream would never come true?

These were things that I shouldn't have been thinking about. Hell, even if they were true, I had no place to even feel anything. She had her own life. I had mine.

But it was hard not to thrust into her harder after that. Difficult not to grimace at her when I turned her onto her stomach and began pounding into her ass with all I had, just so I could vent the bullshit in favor of orgasm.

Maybe You had the right idea. Maybe I should stifle whatever that was nagging and scratching me from the inside of my chest with how tight her pussy smothered my dick.

I came in the middle of the credits. We were sweating by then, and I clasped and unclasped my lips, pressing them against her neck. She sat on top of me with me still inside her for a while, letting the credits roll in their entirety until we were back to the blu-ray menu. Her body burned into mine, and all I could think of was what number I was on her list of "friends".

She sucked me off before we did it one last time on the floor, where we lay together with her smiling lips whispering stupid jokes next to my ear.

I found it harder to laugh than usual.


	3. black sabbath

The next morning came along, and it was just like the morning after our first night together. Normal, no mention of the sex, nothing out of the ordinary. She still treated me like the Taft from junior year of high school, and I was expected to oblige and treat her as You. Just You.

So I did. By the third day, I realized this was the reality of it all. I was just her friend. Nothing had changed from high school other than the fact that we were fucking. She was still the exuberant friendly girl who would listen to all of my problems, all of my thoughts, and I was still the overly talkative guy who would offer her everything except how I really felt about her.

That nagging tension started winding up again after that night of the cooler. It was worse this time. I couldn't stop thinking about her, I began to wonder what she was up to while I was at work, wondered if there were any other guys she talked to on the phone, invited over to her apartment. During nights when she didn't invite me over, I'd sometimes press my ear against my wall, trying to listen intently for another set of footsteps or a baritone voice. When I was alone I'd jack off furiously, her goddamn face plastering my mindscape.

It was obvious now what that nagging, festering was in my chest. I had fallen for her. Again. And the fact that she was so forthright and casual about sex made it worse.

The arrangement we had was as frustrating as it was liberating. After days and days of dealing with the façade that I felt for her how she felt for me, she would come over to "watch Netflix" or invite me to her apartment for my "opinion" on her latest dress. In those heated hours of her skin on mine, her legs opening up for me, I could revel under the illusion that we were making love. But it was obvious to me all You wanted was to fuck.

So I kept obliging her this way. I let her use me any way she see fit, while I projected fantasy onto the curvy reality of her body.

The number of days between each rendezvous began to lessen. And my ability to try to adopt and mimic You's mindset on our intimacy was beginning to weaken.

It began to bleed over to our times when we would hang out, blissfully ignorant. My jokes were less lighthearted, and my conversation less goofy. The clawing sensation in my chest festered and roiled like a wettened finger against a hot iron, but I had to keep it in. I didn't want to break our arrangement, I didn't want to seem like a kid.

This was what sex and love was like in the real world. We were fucking adults now; it's not like I didn't have one-night stands, sex with strangers to give myself a boost when existence was just a little more of a burden than usual. What right had I to be mad at her? What right did I have to feel jealous or anxious or concerned at how You coped with herself?

Platitudes, all of them. I kept repeating them over and over in my head whenever I looked at her, indexing the mental image of how her hair framed her face when she would make a dangling braid against her cheek. She was the only thing I worshipped. But I wanted her to worship me too.

I didn't want anyone else's hand on that cheek. I sure as fuck didn't want anyone else's hand choking the anchor on her hip. And I didn't want anyone else to drink in the blue sparkle of her eyes. I wanted to tell her these things, I was _compelled_ to.

But I didn't. I didn't see the need.

I had chances, like one night after my shift, hanging out with her as she worked. I sipped a Coors on her couch as she sketched away at a revisional design in the corner of the living room next to her TV. There was some game show hosted by Ty Pennington, but my interest withered as soon as my gaze wandered to You; from then on, I couldn't keep my eyes off of her.

She had her hair bunched up with two scrunchies above the nape of her neck, a few strands softly lilting and swaying against the frame of her glasses. Her brow furrowed in concentration, and I was mesmerized at how her lips fell open with her breaths. The singular bulb of her desklamp cast an inviting glow on the skin of her arms, the tip of the nose that I loved pressing against mine.

A few minutes in and she looked up at me. A soft smile spread across her lips and she put her pencil down, resting her head against her arm.

"What is it?" she asked, coyly. I let out a breath. I could tell her now. I should tell her now, how I wanted nights like this every night, how I wanted nobody else to share them with her.

Instead,

"Nothing," I said with a smile. "You're just cute."

She rolled her eyes.

"Is that your idea of flirting? No seriously, tell me."

She could sense how unusually warm my gaze was on her skin. She was giving me a chance to tell her why. I should have done it, probably.

"There's nothing, seriously." I shook my head and took another sip of beer. "Shouldn't you be working?"

You rolled her eyes again, but I saw her give me a sideways glance as if telling me this was my last chance.

I didn't take it.

I chugged the rest of my Coors. I drank four more.

An hour later and her work station was cleared to the floor, and I roughly tugged off her shorts and her panties in one grab, throwing them onto the papers and sketches she had penciled. She squealed and complained about how I was wrinkling her work before she was giggling, mirthful as my lips rubbed against her snatch, and my tongue made quick work of her tense nerves as I ate her out.

I fucked her on that desk not long after. The only thing I wanted to say to her then was how much I wanted to fuck her pretty face until she choked.

I was angry, bitter at myself and the feelings I reserved. Loose ends that would remain frayed until You Watanabe was out of my life completely. I channeled that into the sex. She enjoyed it, let me take her harder, take her anytime we were together, use her like I let her use me.

We spilled an entire pitcher of OJ onto her counter one morning after she suggestively ran her finger down my blazer before I tugged her panties down her thighs and fucked her while standing. She sucked me off in the parking lot of the White Castle down the street, and we steamed up all the windows of her Kia. We went to a matinee of some kid's movie we knew nobody was going to watch, and she rode me in the back row near the projector room, and I made sure her moans were as loud as the drivel onscreen.

I made her wear an old barista outfit she had in her closet because I wanted to see how cute she looked in it…but she went the whole nine yards and actually brewed me a coffee. I took only a few sips before her coy teasing and roleplay ("Would you like some _cream_ with that, sir…?) had me pinning her against her fridge.

I buried my feelings with so much fucking that they were better off dead.

**black sabbath.**

This arrangement of ours continued on for more than a month. We would meet up every day, have sex about three times a week…until it just turned into sex every single day, period; the Trojan Man was a frequent third-wheel.

I was getting used to it. I couldn't get enough of her body, she couldn't get enough of my company. A knock at my door, a Messenger notification, a text, all of them meant the same thing.

But then, I stopped getting them. Nothing out of the usual romps and rendezvous had happened. She hadn't seemed to be in a sour mood when we last parted, nothing. She just stopped texting me and stopped coming over.

When I came to her door and knocked, she wouldn't answer. I looked out over the railing of the walkway; her car was parked, that meant she was inside. I would ring the doorbell too, but no dice. Maybe she was asleep or probably busy with her work, because as it stood, there was no getting into her apartment without breaking in.

A few days into the radio silence and I was tempted to do just that. Like clockwork I'd get up for work, knock her door, ring her bell, check for her car. Still, no text, no answer, no nothing.

I began to grow restless. Had I said something wrong? Was I too aggressive with my lust for her? Wasn't that what she wanted? I tried to take my mind off things by focusing on work, but that was hard as shit when all my job description asked of me was to just sit and watch the door. I found myself anticipating for her to pay me a visit.

Then, one night, her Kia was gone. I noticed as soon as I walked into the apartment complex property. It was around seven; I had gone and eaten at the Wendy's across the street after work. An hour later, and I was still watching the empty space, waiting for her to come rolling in to park. She must have gone out for groceries or something, she'd eventually come back. I set up a chair in front of that window by the door, I ate my dinner there, I hauled out a six-pack and began to drink.

At 3AM I knew she wasn't coming back. And my mind went wild. My stomach churned and I felt like I was going to vomit. The whole night I stayed there, and I began to pace. My six-pack didn't last me long, and I resorted to my bottle of Jack's. 6AM. She still hadn't come back. I emptied that motherfucker by 10AM, and I smashed the empty bottle against the wall. I knew where she had gone. I knew that it was over between us and there was nothing I could do. In her eyes there was probably nothing between us in the first place, so who was I to get angry and confront her with it.

She rolled in around noon, and by then I was blackout drunk. With dead eyes I saw her exit her Kia, strutting on her high-heeled boots and a pencil skirt and a tight sweater. She went round back to her trunk and took out a duffle bag. I assumed they were clothes that were ruined by some bastard the night before. Then, she locked her car, went up the stairwell, and I heard her boots clack on the walkway, the jangle of her keys, her door, the duffle bag hitting the floor.

I stared at the remnants of my bottle of Jack's on the floor. They twinkled like dying stars, and for a moment I tried to replace her blue sparkles with their lustre; they didn't even come close. I sat there, red eyes, drooling onto myself, a mess, a stain on the floor of my apartment, and waited.

Still, no text.

I cleaned out my kitchen of my remaining liquor, and I blacked out for the rest of the day. I called off work for the next three or four days, and I started the process of moving on, waiting for the moment where I could muster up the willpower to shove You Watanabe out of my head.

That moment never came. And I found myself in a mess of Vaseline and cum and tissues, crying, crying, crying…

What had I lost?

It was on the Sunday when I groggily woke up to the sound of my phone buzzing irritatingly against the wood of my nightstand. Over and over, it buzzed. I reached over, and instantly I felt my bloodshot eyes sort of pop out of my head when I saw dozens of notifications. They were all from her.

_hey, come over._

_wake up! It's easter!_

_hey_

_hey_

_u awake yet?_

_come over, i've got something to show you_

_taft!_

And so on and so forth, bookended by,

_9 Missed Calls_

I was in the shower before I realized it. My heart was pounding and for the first time since the all-nighter I felt alive again; despite myself, excitement began to pump through me.

I wanted to see her again, I needed to.

The archive of snapshotted moments flew through my mind, and I wondered how her skin would feel beneath my touch. It almost felt like I had forgotten.

Then, the image of a tall dark stranger clutching her skin, kissing the ivory tower of her neck, face nestled in between the heat of her thighs…

I toweled myself off, and I looked in the mirror.

I was grimacing, a look of disgust and frustration plastered across my face. My knuckles turned white as I gripped the countertop and my excitement turned into begrudging apprehension. I was suddenly worried that I'd see her smile differently, that her beauty would turn into traitorous wiles. I didn't want that.

But then the phone buzzed again on my nightstand, and in less than a minute I was out the door.

My chest racked with the jackhammering of my pulse. I made the familiar stride over to her apartment. Before my knuckles could rap against the steel, a shred of sketching paper was taped over the peephole, scrawled with her handwriting.

_It's open_

Sure enough the door swung open without the resistance of a deadbolt. I ripped the note off the door and locked it behind me. I took a step into her apartment before a plastic clatter made me stop dead in my tracks. I shifted my other foot, and there was a cellophane crackle.

I had kicked away a plastic egg, and stepped on some plastic grass. I took my shoes off and stepped further into the apartment. More eggs, more grass, some Hershey kisses, a Cadbury egg here and there. They were all scattered on the floor of her apartment, and it didn't take much effort to realize it was a small trail. Bemused but also a little amused at You's little game, I played along. I followed the winding trail deeper and deeper into the apartment, careful not to mess up the tufts of plastic and chocolate. Eventually it was pretty obvious where the trail led, and I felt the apprehension return in full-force when I took a tentative step into her bedroom.

I froze again once my eyes followed the rest of the trail to its destination: an elaborate Easter display was splayed out on You's bed, dozens of tufts of plastic eggs were nestled in green cellophane nests, fluffy stuffed rabbits keeping sentry on small mounds of multi-colored Jelly Bellies, Starbursts, Jolly Ranchers, scattered across the white canvas of her sheets, bright, fresh tulips lying like palm leaves for a sacred homecoming.

But the combined color of all these things _grossly _paled in comparison to the main centerpiece of You's special Easter surprise: her. She casually leaned back against a large carrot pillow, nibbling on a Peep. In her languid display, no curve of her body was left to the imagination. White lace of lingerie hugged her curves tight: her breasts pushed out, supple and full against her bra, the natural downward curve of her chest drawing my eyes to the neat little sky-blue bow nestled in the center; flesh of her hips spilled over her panties, drawing a neat barrier across the smooth nook beneath her belly button-another bow matched the one in the center of her breasts, placed almost exactly where the navy blue anchor on the opposite hip would be.

I let my eyes wander down further, traversing the smoothness of her smooth legs, watching as she casually shifted them about; she was wearing white heels, one of them dangled playfully off her toe until she gave one small flick of her ankle and it clattered to the floor. And to top it all off?

Fluffy white bunny ears adorned the top of her head. They quivered in sweet little shudders as she chewed. I watched her take the last few bites of the yellow Peep passing her lips, seeing how her mouth encompassed the marshmallow before that same mouth wetted its pinkness with her tongue. She turned her head towards me as if she just noticed me standing there, enraptured, subsequently hard.

The result of her display poked to the left inside my joggers.

You bit her lip and tittered. It echoed through the rest of her skin, delicious little quakes of curves. I bit my own lip at the sight.

"It's almost noon…and you're not at mass?"

You tsked at me and gave a coy shake of her head. I broke out of my reverie. The apprehension from earlier faded…but was replaced by something else that pulsed. Something other than my dick.

I was angry.

A week and she acts as if nothing had happened. A week with no texts back, nothing to tell me where she's been, and she plays up this…this _bullshit_?

More than a month, and she invites me over for sex that isn't impromptu _now_?

You kept looking through my grimace without breaking that coy little smile of hers. I practically ripped off my shirt as I walked towards that bed, towards that teasing smirk that I wanted to stuff full of my fucking cock.

"And?" I said. Demanded.

You giggled again, and I couldn't wait to hear her choke instead.

"Good little boy like you should be at church."

That was when she turned over, and revealing a fluffy white tail sprouting between her full, round asscheeks. Her panties were pulled down to make way for it, and she positioned herself on all fours, looking back over her shoulder with that _fucking _smile again. She kicked off her other heel. It hit the floor the same time my joggers did. I didn't bother making myself look presentable; my boxers were on the floor and I stepped over them.

Throbbing, naked, and furious, I made a beeline towards You and my salvation, my sweet, sweet transgression.

"Take me there."


	4. easter

She just giggled and giggled and wiggled her ass. My knuckles were white.

I knelt at the altar of her bed, and my adoring hands immediately tugged her panties down her skin, letting my face crash in between the cheeks of her ass. My tongue lashed out and did what it did best: sin.

Her soft skin smothered my face, the fur of her puffy butt plug tickled my forehead. I dove in deeper and my hands greedily gripped her ass with a vise grip. My nails dug into her flesh to bring her closer, closer to my mouth. She was slick and hot already, just as I expected.

I licked up all of the juices that dribbled between those thighs, drinking her in and breathing in primal huffs through my nostrils. She tasted like everything that I missed, everything I supposedly loved. My fingers clutched and unclutched, groping; I couldn't get enough of how supple her flesh felt under my touch, just as I couldn't get enough of how much of her essence leaked and leaked onto my tongue and down my accepting throat.

You's body shuddered and I could feel the reverberations of her squirming under my palms. I raised my hands, bringing them down in a soft smack, and I reveled in how she shivered. I heard her call my name and I smacked her again. A spurt of her quim shot into my mouth. I buried myself into her ass as deep as I could, my nose squished between the enclosing fleshy gates of her rump until my tongue was going wild in her tight, tight snatch.

My lips have grown familiar with the intricacies between her legs at this point, but after more than a week I was more than eager to reacquaint myself. She tasted so hot, felt so sticky. My dribble spilled from my lips in clear strings onto her panties. I slurped and wriggled and drew out words inside of her. More of her quim jetted in heated streams down my throat. I swallowed everything she had to offer, I grew drunk and more excited while her pussy pulsed as I throbbed.

I withdrew my tongue from those pink lower lips, strings and strings of her juices and my spit staining her scrunched-up panties. I pressed it flatly against her skin, feeling her shiver in anticipation, tasting every inch of her that I stained until my lips spread open wetly across her left asscheek, and my teeth bit down, hard, on that warm, supple fruit.

She whimpered my name, and I wanted to hear her again, louder. With my tongue slathering the marks of my teeth, my right hand slipped down her ass, and without any warning, I bite down again, just as I shoved that hand between her legs. Two of my fingers felt her slick heat. I let their tips slide and push against her. I felt her squirm. I pressed my teeth against her, as if warning her of the consequences if she dare escape my grasp. One more back and forth of my fingers against her vulva, and I plunged inside.

I've never fingered her from this angle, and I could tell that it pleased her. I spread them apart, I curled them, I drew lewd circles and heard her inner heat squelch around me. She moaned my name again, but still not as loud as I wanted. My left hand was on the small of her back now, stilling her, calming her, taming her. I pushed down, making her fall flat on her face. My left eye was the only eye that wasn't obstructed by You, and I noticed her hand instinctively clench onto a tuft of purple plastic grass. My tongue dribbled more of my salivation down her thighs. Then, I started to fingerbang her.

She went wild. I felt her clench and grow wetter, but I didn't stop; I went faster, harder. Sounds of the wet, wet squelch of her pussy gripping and pulsing around my fingers were still louder than You's pleas. So I went even harder, making sure I curved my assault to hit her in the spot that always made her squeal. I didn't relent. She started whimpering, escalating those into legitimate squeals, and finally, finally, my name.

She let it tumble from her lips in breathless screams, shuddered it when she started to hiccup and choke on her own spit. I heard more crackling of cellophane grass, the clattering of plastic eggs that she kicked off the bed. She came. I felt the insides of her pinkness clench tight around me, her hips undulating and shaking. Heat drenched my hand in thick spurts. She bucked and reared, but I made sure to keep the bunny in check, my left hand pressing hard into her lower back.

In the midst of her orgasm, I kept pushing into her without stopping. She was mine. She was my sock puppet, and I had every fucking fiber of her being bending and writhing to the will of my fingers.

She came again, and after I pulled out of her drenched pink pocket and began to rub and rub and rub her swollen clit, she came again. A chain of climaxes, all from my touch, all proof that she wanted me as badly as I wanted her. I was grateful I was out of my pants; at the sight of her like this, turning into a mess after just a few minutes of foreplay, manipulated by my angry fingers, my cock was utterly _throbbing _in anticipation.

I let her rest for a bit. My hands kept up their worship of her plumpness, and I let them wander a bit, up to her hips, her waist. I heard her whimper in satisfaction, feeling her body let out gentle jolts-aftershocks of her previous peaks of pleasure.

But her respite was short before I flipped her over. I wanted to taste her again, intoxicate myself on her concentrated lust. Her puffy cotton tail peaked out under her ass when I spread her legs open. My eyes widened. She had waxed for me, her wet, pink folds completely bare. It looked even more delicious than before. I looked up at her face, saw her give me a look that was as vulnerable as it was needy. I dove straight in.

My lips kept busy, making sure she knew how I much I loved tasting her in every corner of my mouth. She started to writhe again, and I reached up over and placed one of my hands on her stomach. I pet the skin, pressing and rubbing in circles. I needed to calm her down for a little bit longer, let her wallow in the fact that she was naked and victim to every licentious depravity my tongue would imprint inside her.

It took a few minutes of petting and more gentle strokes from the underside of my tongue on her clit until I felt her settle in, felt her relax. Then, I started ramping it up a little. Her clit became captive to my tongue as I flicked it, licked it, slathered it. Her hands soon became acquainted with my scalp, my own kept her legs apart, almost flat to the bed. She needed to feel defenseless, exposed to me, and only me. She was shaken by the change of pace.

But I wanted her to be thunderstruck.

I started sucking on her clit, hard and ruthless. In the small space under my chin, I slipped in a finger, and started scraping against her inner walls.

You's voice came out in a cracked squeal. My name escaped it in a tone that ranged from surprise to shock to pure bliss. I kept it up and within a minute, she came. I let go of her legs, letting them convulse uselessly as she had a hard orgasm that left her hiccupping, hiccupping, breathless. I drank it _all _in, and by the time it was over my face was wet. My cheeks were sticky.

Panting, I stood. I looked at my work. It felt good, so good to see that smile on her face gone. My anger had settled considerably, but it was still there, channeled in the pulsing of my hard erection. Her eyes half-mast, she looked at me; her blue almost completely black. Without another word, she crawled over to me, fluffy white ears drooping as she returned the favor.

The familiar space between her cheeks made me hiss. She lathered my cock with her hot spit, embraced it with the spongy velvet of her tongue. I found myself petting the top of her head, my hand gently running through her gray little curls.

Then, my fingers instinctively clenched, and I let out a shudder when I felt the bulging throb of my cockhead squeeze into her throat. I whispered a nonsensical howl. The heat of her throat was alien to me; she had given me plenty blowjobs in the past four or so weeks, but never went this far, this _deep _. I could only go along for the ride, pushing her lips into my crotch, listening to her breath raspily through small gaps between her mouth and my veiny lust.

I sprinkled groans into the fleshy wet hymn of her mouth wetly slurping me inside. I had to stop looking at her; if I kept my eyes on You, with that get-up, feeling the rabbit ears tickle my chest, seeing the white fluff in the center of her ass, seeing the blue sparkles that I thought were so innocent look up at me in wide, coy circles as she swallowed me to my hilt… I didn't want to bust then and there, it was too good to let it end so early.

It was apparent that You was experienced in this. The way she so expertly started humming, how she swiped her tongue back and forth on the underside of my prick, pushing her head forward in long, succulent strokes, she had to have done this before. My mind imagined with whom. Maybe in high school. Maybe in the car when she lived with her mother. Probably with the man she ran off to a few days ago when I was crying, hands sticky with my shame.

The thought should have enraged me further. It should have infuriated me. But at that moment, I couldn't care less.

It was meaningless for me to take charge of the situation, stuffing her throat with force, pulling her into my crotch and earnestly skullfucking her like I had planned. But no, I didn't need to. Not when she returned my favor to her so willingly, so eagerly. My life was so menial that having her lavish my cock with such care and humility made me feel more wanted and important than anything that had happened in the past few years; she may as well have washed my feet.

I came, throbbing copious spurts of concentrated release directly down her hot, hot throat. Even with her skill, several shots filled her mouth, and I let out a hiss at the sight of her drawing her lips back over the red of my cock, several rivulets of cum dripping down her chin before her thumb scooped them back between her cheeks.

In that moment, all that mattered was the line of white that connected the tip of my dick to the edge of her tongue. The girl I had fallen in love with in high school was now the woman who held my heart captive, her tongue painted with me. That line of white was the only thing that connected us. If it weren't for that line, we may just be neighbors, just acquaintances with a warm and comfy past.

I had no say in her life other than what position I want her to be in when I shove myself between her thighs. And if that was really all she wanted, so be it. If I was only the latest in a long line of physical escapes, so be it. I wasn't angry anymore. How could I be, when the bunny that prepped herself for sacrifice upon the masonry of her sheets looked so vulnerable? She was to be offered up, and I was her carnal fire.

I took another look at her. We both knew the next phase as she sat back, supporting herself on her elbows. She cleared aside some of the decorations in her way.

I wasn't angry anymore. But I was hard.

I made the move towards her dresser; I knew she had more Trojans in there, unless she took them all with her the night she was gone.

But she stopped me with a small sound from her throat. I looked over at her as she bit her lip.

She was fingering herself softly, making sure she was as wet as she was when release had pulsed moistly through her body. Her panties dangled off her ankle. Then, everything inside me wound up and snapped all at once when she took both of her hands, hooked her folds with the tips of her fingers, and spread herself completely open. For the first time that morning I saw the insides of her pussy, pulsing, pink, ready. She looked expectantly at me, and I looked back at her like she was the Second Coming. I almost tripped in my rush between her legs, my prick as swollen as her clit.

We always established rubbers as a rule whenever we had sex, pill or not. But that morning, the notion of safety had as much relevance as a renewed vow of chastity; nothing was going to stop me from fucking this girl raw.

I placed my tip against that sodden pink entrance, made sure it was firmly kissing her. She felt hot and the pulsing of her inner flesh echoed in carnal fire down my most sensitive nerves. I winced. I sweated. My hand gripped the upper curve of her thighs as she spread herself for me. Then, once I made sure it was aligned, I _pulled _her body as I thrust forward.

"Jesus Christ." I said, watching as half of my prick was sucked into her, her pink lower lips clasping onto me tightly in a kiss.

I felt as if a third eye was opened, as if this was my first time masturbating. I pushed the rest of myself inside her, feeling her squirm, _directly _feeling her pussy pulse wetly around me, _clutching _me. I pulled out and more scrapes of raw bliss scattered like fireworks through my nerves. The tension in my loins exploded. I pushed in, harder, loving how her whole body rocked at the impact. It had been a week too long.

I started pumping into her in earnest. My eyes were glued to our point of connection and I watched splatters of our lust and efforts splash out and stain the bed. It was entrancing, seeing my work in action; connecting a visual to the sensations striking through my body from that meaty rod of nerves like an insulated Tesla coil only made me more excited, more eager to make her mine. I wanted to go in deeper, I wanted to shove myself into her balls-deep with every thrust.

In due time her calf hung limply over my shoulder, and I was honest-to-God plowing her now, savoring every goddamn inch of my cock sawing in and out and in and out of her. I gripped her thigh hard. I could feel my sweat dam up behind my eyebrows, feel the sweat on her leg trickle down my back. My right hand started rubbing her clit, vigorously toggling it back and forth, pushing, twirling it. She came not long after. I looked down to that connection again, the connection that dictated my mind, my heart, and my body, cloudy release of her lustful tension spurting out in small arcs all over the bed.

I watched her face now, seeing her grip onto the bedsheets, some strands of cellophane yellow, purple, blue grass sticking to the sweaty skin of her neck. I loved how her breasts bounced, bounded inside the cups of her bra. I couldn't wait to rip it off. I smiled devilishly at the sight of a few jelly beans popping about on the skin of her tummy, desperately trying to remain on her skin during the onslaught. The heat of her body melted the color off the Skittles and the M&M's that were also bouncing with the beans-I loved how that color mixed with her sweat, sprinkling into the air, squiggling down her sides in small streams.

Then, navy blue. I latched onto her tattoo. All the candy that had somehow found their way on her body was forgotten, and I grit my teeth. The little anchor winked at me as her hips kept reciprocating the energy I poured into her. It didn't take long until I pulled out, and with my breathing coming out in pathetic little jutters, I came. The sticky ropes of my spunk shot across her body, splattering onto the candies that still clung to her skin, two or three shooting so far as to strike hotly against her chin. Each spurt made me call out her name, like a mantra, a prayer, each firm stroke of my hand sliding hotly against my releasing cock a bead of my rosary. By the time I was finished, little puddles and rivulets of my cum frosted her body. She was breathless, and I took in the sight of how she lay there, fucked and heated, admiring my handiwork and how the load of my balls managed to fit right into the Easter décor.

I was hard again within moments, and I crawled over her. I noticed her tattoo was completely covered by a thick wad of my spunk. I let it stay that way. When I reached her face, You pulled me down with her arms almost instantly. Our lips locked and I swirled my tongue recklessly, hungrily. She was sweeter than anything she lay on that bed, and her lips turned into pure saccharin when she managed to break free of my tongue and said, "This time, _inside. _" before her hand reached between us and began stroking me.

A minute later and candies and eggs and stuffed animals bounced and bounced with every one of my thrusts. I was throwing all of my weight into her now. I didn't care about how long I lasted, didn't care about technique or any bullshit that would stop me from fulfilling her request. Once I took a break from her lips, my hand grabbed her bra by the center, my fist crushing her little bow. In one deft and violent grab, I ripped it off. The sound of ripping lace was accompanied by her gasp. She complained amidst her breathlessness as I pounded into her without stopping.

"You can always make more." Was what I growled to shut her up, before plunging between her pearly whites with my tongue to make sure she would stay shut up.

My efforts were not in vain. It took less than five minutes before I clenched up and the world around me concentrated into the rush of my body smashing into hers as I made sure I was shoved all the way to the fucking hilt before I let go. Jets of thick and sticky heat shot through my urethra, and I could only mumble open mouthed gibberish against You's tongue as the pleasure just took me over. I gave her what she wanted, just like I always did, like I always have. Rope after rope of cum, I emptied into her. She whimpered and I felt her legs on my lower back, bringing me in more. I wondered how it felt for her, I wondered if she felt it before. Those passing thoughts were soon buried under more jets of cum.

Soon I discovered melted Hershey's kisses on the sweltering stickiness of her back, with an array of all the other candies and strands of grass that seemed to love her body as much as mine. My fingers raked them off as You rode me, her heels digging into my skin, my fingers into hers, our tongues digging into each other's. My cum felt warm, a gooey extra layer inside of her that would string out like taffy, pressing against my prick in a way that made me want to cum in her again. The bunny ears on her head echoed all of her bounds, as much as her throat echoed her delight at my hands roaming, cleaning, worshipping.

We broke for air at one point, and she reached behind my head to press my forehead against hers. The saliva that connected our lips in thin and translucent bridges swayed in tandem with You's eager bounces, keeping in rhythm her thighs loudly smacking against my legs.

I breathed hotly against her mouth. Just like that first night together, I felt like we were in a jar together with no holes poked out for air. How far we've come. I had only had a few sloppy and awkward encounters before her, and now, I felt like the Devil himself whenever she spread her legs for me. She's taught me much. And I had a feeling that right now, I was passing with flying colors.

"Bounce for me, bunny…" I mouthed against her lips. I didn't think or plan it, I just said what I wanted through grit teeth. "Bounce…"

In the midst of her cycling moans and gasps, You laughed, a sound that sounded that much better when it was layered with so many inadvertent exclamations dug out from my cock pistoning inside her.

"Now _that's _a line…" she mouthed back, breath steamy against my lips, and sweet when she pushed forward into an open-mouthed kiss.

She pulled back to moan into my face again, biting her lip when my cockhead grinded against her spot. She concentrated on trying to find it again; I felt her nails dig deeper into my scalp.

"What would you rather me say? 'It's fucking _wabbit season' _?"

You laughed again and Christ, the reverberations of her amusement shooting through my body was just art in motion.

"You sorta do have that Elmer Fudd aesthetic…"

I laughed. For the first time in forever, in what seemed like what was more than a week, I laughed, I smiled, and I kissed her in earnest. Less than a few minutes later, I gripped her hips tighter, and I filled her with another creamy load, galvanized with just a little less frustration than before.

Curiosity soon got the best of me, and I positioned You onto all fours. I tried not to be too distracted by how fucking perfect it looked as my cum dripped in long goopy strings from her sodden folds. She was obviously planning for this part to happen, seeing how when I grabbed her bunny tail and pulled, it shlicked out almost_ too _easily; it was drenched in lube. You let out hot, hot moans as she fell to the sheets, and I gulped at the prospect that this freaky little rabbit was this turned on from the stimulation of her naughty puckered asshole alone. But as easy as it was to pull it out, the sheer tightness of You's pink forbidden treasure was proven by a wet _pop _when the knobbed end of the sinful and fluffy doohickey exited completely.

I gulped at the prospect of how that tightness would feel around me, but that prospect got me hard as a rock a few moments later when I shuffled forward on my knees. My weight caused a few plastic eggs to roll and knock against my skin, along with a few dozen assorted sweets. But my only focus was the sweet little pink delicacy in front of me when I spread open the soft, fleshy veil of her glorious asscheeks.

Her anus was a sight to behold. It leaked a small little drip of that lube she had used, and its pink little lines formed a little star, a target for me to bullseye. It looked so _tight _, so fucking small, that I was almost nervous to push forward like I did, making sure her cheeks were spread apart enough for me to gain entrance.

"_ Jesus Christ _." I said, watching as inch after inch of my pulsing, utterly _asphyxiated _cock slowly pushed into her.

I could see that anal was something that excited You greatly with the way her body reacted, how it squirmed, how her hands were _digging _into her sheets while she whimpered and groaned. But I could only wince at how excited her body was as she clenched and _gripped _the deeper I went.

She squeezed the cum out of me right when I was getting into a set rhythm. I watched as I hilted myself, watched as the little rolls of my hips kissed my thighs against the cheeks that closed around the bottom half of my prick. I saw wads of spunk stumble out from her plugged ass, slipping through the small space between my engorged lust and her sinfully tight inner flesh like jam.

In that moment, as I lost myself again to the raw, raw pleasure that seared through my nerves, a considerable chunk of that frustration I had melted away. In due time I was hard again, and with a slap to her right asscheek, I prompted her to the head of the bed. I would domesticate her, keep her as only _mine _, all while I worshipped her, made sure she knew how much I exalted her body and her smile and my name on her lips.

Her hands gripped the bars of her bedframe, a willing prisoner to me and my efforts as I kept pounding into her, melting, melting, melting. I channeled all of the concentrated tension and pain of the past week into You, and like the willing sacrifice that she was, she accepted every ounce, every single quart, moaning, squealing, screaming.

Sticky with sweat and sugar, I willingly lost myself to the delirium of our sex. It was a reunion of flesh and the refilling of empty affection, and I savored every fucking moment of it. Seared all that I did to her, everything I said to her into my mind, as if this was the last night of my life.

I laid waste to You through the noon, the afternoon. We would take a break or two, she'd feed candy past my lips, and I'd share it to her with my tongue shoving past her teeth.

I'd lost count of how many times I emptied myself inside her, and how many times she spurt it back out with her own releases, but I didn't care. I didn't care about anything at that point other than the fact that I wanted to ravish and lavish her body until we were both completely wasted and unconscious.

It took a few more orgasms until my brain started working properly again, and I was above her in the most basic position I could think of, my loins churning and roiling, cum and colored streaks of sugar painted across her skin like gossamer on grass.

There was the constant banging rhythm of the steel headboard against the drywall, the filthy squelching of my prick dragging out wads of cum from my previous loads, the clatter of plastic eggs tumbling to the floor. But all I could care about hearing were You's moans, the way those swollen lips of her formed the letters of my name. She was unzipping me, wearing me down to the bone. There was nothing else I had to offer her, even the frustrations I had channeled into my pummeling hips when I railed her earlier that afternoon were gone, withered.

All I could do was keep my thrusts going, going, going. Wanton, reckless, messy, all while You moaned beneath me, the blue sparkle of her eyes pleading up at me in a way that told me, in this moment, that she was willing to accept everything I had. So I gave it to her, just like I did back in high school; it was hard not to then, it was harder now.

But what did I even have to offer her? I always wondered that.

Those eyes that looked up so vulnerably to me now, I didn't deserve those. I didn't deserve them when I would try and walk by her table of the popular kids and she'd call out my name or grab my sleeve and give me one of those melting smiles.

I didn't deserve them when she would catch me staring at her in Mr. Mackley's Honors class when he'd give one of his godawful orations, and she'd stare right back with a wide friendly smile.

I didn't deserve them when we had gorged on Takis and Arizonas next to the manmade lake close to her house, when she opened up to me, telling me of how she wanted to live on the sea and never ever come back, her eyes the expanse of the Pacific she longed to disappear into.

And I especially did not deserve them now, fucking her without any restraint, using her to chase peaks of youth that I had never achieved, recreating lustful dreams I never had the fucking balls to ever make true. I was nothing special. She had given these eyes to people more worthy than me before, opened her legs to worthy men when now, she opened herself to a boy.

All of these things, they were things that would stay with me until I died, and no amount of mindless sex could bury it. They welled up within me, and I felt guilt and shame burst through into my throat.

What did I even have to offer her?

When she gave me her time, her attention, her _dreams _, her body, all I ever had to offer was my awkward jokes, my goofy smile and-

"God, I love you, You, I fucking love you, I always have, I have ever since high school!" I said. Better yet, I spilled. I saw her eyes grow wider then, her lips fall open with the weight of something more than her moans. I should have stopped, but under the rhythm of my hips, my lips kept spitting. My lips kept spilling. Her eyes hinted that she was willing to take everything, and that was my goddamn heart's idea of a cue.

"I missed you. Christ, I missed you so much without me even realizing it. Your smile, everything that you were, that you still are, they made me whole. I didn't realize it at the time but I've loved you since you first talked to me outside Mr. Miller's. You've probably forgotten but I'll always remember the smile you gave me, the eyes you gave me that made me feel like the most special motherfucker in the whole school. You kept giving, you kept giving me those eyes, those smiles, those words of yours that made me grin like a stupid little bitch when I looked at myself in the mirror or when I thought of you before bed,"

I kept spilling. My hands were gripping the sheets around her head as I slipped into her and my words slipped through my throat. My hips followed suit and her body stopped rocking up and down the sheets; I could catch the sparkle of her blue eyes easier now.

"It may have been small talk, it may have been meaningless shit, but I loved that meaningless shit, I clung to that meaningless shit, because it meant it was from you. I still remember your color is aquamarine, your candy is salt water taffy. And all of the special shit you gave me, I remember those even when after all these years I tried to just forget. Of course I knew you wanted to be in the Navy, I never forgot about that, I never forgot about any of it, You. How fucking could I?

"I know it's childish bullshit I know I'm a fucking_ adult _and all of this shit is just stuff I should look back at fondly and I should just move on, and I have, but you came back and so all _this _is back. All of this time, and I'm still carrying that load, I still can't let go because I've never found anyone else that could replace it. I wasn't Todd, I wasn't Joel, I wasn't Will, I wasn't any of those guys but you still hung out with me, you talked with me on the phone for hours, we shared bands, we watched movies over at your place, we traded goddamn dreams when we believed the world would still work together with us."

I could feel the beads of sweat racing down my skin now, I could feel the pound of my heart. I pressed my weight into her body and I felt the pounding of hers. I was on my forearms now, and I could feel her breaths huffing into my face as I drove into her. She wasn't moaning anymore. She was mewling softly, as gently as the thrusts I haphazardly snaked into her now that my effort wasn't in chasing my climax, but in forcing this crap out of my system.

Everything came to a halt when I felt her hand suddenly clutch my cheek. I wondered why. I couldn't see her face; just blotches of color. White of her damp sheets, soft peach of her cheeks, blue sparkle. I found it all rushing up to meet me when the hand at my neck pulled, hard. Her tongue was languid yet desperate, and I lost myself in the warmth of her mouth when I closed my eyes, and I felt that the tears pressed into my cheeks weren't my own.

I withdrew, and I saw she was crying too. Her eyes weren't sparkling, they were quivering, vulnerable like I've never seen them before. She looked up at me with her face red, and her shoulders shook. _She _was starting to spill.

"It t-took me to stuffing a tail up my ass for you to say that after all these _years _?"

She didn't need to say anything more and I knew what she meant. I thought of it, how I had hurt her and I started sobbing too. Her thighs desperately slipped against my sweaty hips, and our lips smacked with pure need, as if another graduation would take either one of us away.

I didn't hold anything back anymore, I _bucked _into her, feeling her whip her head back as her arms crossed behind my neck, keeping me close, keeping me from escaping her warmth. I looked down at her again and it stung. It fucking stung knowing that I had hurt her.

"I'm sorry I never could tell you. You made me feel special but I knew that I wasn't. I thought I was special when you took me to the lake by your house, but Jim would tell me of the time you took him there too. I thought I was special when you told me your dreams, but Eric just asked me one day out of the blue if you still wanted to be in the Navy. I wasn't the only one in love with you, everyone loved you.

"Because you loved everyone. You made _everyone _feel like the way you made me feel, and that's why I loved you. You were a light to that school, to the lives you crossed You and I didn't deserve any of that, so I used you and I took advantage of that I'm so sorry, I'm sorry I didn't tell you, I'm sorry that in these past weeks all I did was have sex with you and I lied and kept telling myself it was normal when I really love you and I wonder how many others you've opened your legs to, how I don't want anyone else to link up with you like this because I love you even though I _don't fucking deserve to but I can't help but want yo- _"

"Shut up! J-Just _shut up! _"

The heat of her snatch escaped me. My cock slipped pathetically out of her and the weak muscles of my body slid it onto the skin of her stomach. I stopped trying.

She had pulled me down onto her, my right cheek pressed wetly against hers. Her breasts shuddered into my chest as she sobbed, and her throat let out wails that I never wanted to fucking hear in my life. I lay there on top of her, wet and naked, and I didn't know what to do. I didn't know what to say.

I let her cry and let her cling to me and again, I felt useless. I stared into the strands of her hair pressing at the tip of my nose, and tears streamed from my eyes too.

"I'm sorry…" she said. It was a whimper, the last syllable of her apology extending and falling off in a sob. "I'm so sorry, Taft… I'm sorry…"

She kept doing that with her "sorry"'s as she held me, held me and sobbed and kept saying my name. She would sniffle before breaking into a soft wail.

"I'm sorry…"

It was the worst sound I ever heard, and it broke me.

"Wh-Why," I said. Croaked. "You didn't do anyth-"

Her arms brought my closer to her. Her collarbone dug into the skin above my chest now.

"I…I loved you too, Taft, but I thought it was too late, I thought it wasn't real. I'm sorry because I didn't _say anything _when I could have. I assumed that what I was feeling was just hormones; we were just 16, we were just 17 you know? We were just a bunch of teenagers, Taft, that's not love. That's what I told myself. I didn't want to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt _anyone _, which is why I never dated or anything; I denied myself what it would have been like to get to know you like…like this because of the possibility that my feelings were just hormonal imbalances.

"Besides, high school relationships never last, right? The world was so open to me after high school, there would be plenty of guys like you. This was the _shit _that I said to myself. So I kept talking to you and tried to pass it off as just hanging out until graduation when I could say goodbye to you, I thought then I could just forget you and look back at it all as just a first crush.

"It's… it's stupid isn't it? I let you go and I let the possibility of _us _go because of what _could _have happened. And now I'm an adult I can't let it go, I can't forget what might have happened if I didn't assume and if I didn't consider how I could have hurt you.

"After graduation I 'moved' on like I was supposed to. I had my first in some party that summer with someone from our class, I shacked up with a guy I met during basic training, I dated a co-worker at a Kohl's for a while, when I started living alone I picked up guys from bars, from Tinder when I felt lonely, this was all what I was supposed to do. _This _was what romance was.

"I never felt anything _close _to like what we had but I chalked that up to just teenage puppy love, hormonal bullshit, I thought I never could feel that again because that's how _real _romance should feel. So when I met you last month, I was so happy… but the more we had sex, and the more we spent time together, I got scared. I was terrified, Taft… I thought that it was just hormones again, just a nostalgia trip gone wrong. I didn't want to hurt you even further, I noticed how dark your eyes got recently, and I didn't want that for you.

I ran away, just like I always do. That's what I did this week. I buried myself in my work and I ignored you and then on Wednesday…"

She trailed off, choked up. That was when I had stayed up and stood sentry over her parking spot.

"…there was- he was someone from the website I work for. He said he was passing through town and-and wanted to see me in person, since we worked so extensively together through Skype. I-I God-" You continued, and she was shaking, shivering as she kept crying salty hot pain onto my cheek, down my neck. "God I'm so sorry, Taft I went out for drinks with him and I knew what he wanted and I-_ God _…I _gave _it to him, Taft, we fucked in his hotel and I let him use me like I have all these years. I thought that maybe sex with you felt so special because it's just been a while, I wanted to see if I had another man inside me, another man's hands all over me th-that I could feel normal again.

"But I just felt fucking worse, I couldn't stop thinking about you. I felt so dirty, after the fact. I kept making him fuck me and I thought if he did it harder that I'd forget but your face…your voice, all of it kept coming to me and I just felt worse and worse-"

You sobbed and sobbed. I didn't know what else to do than let her.

"It didn't feel genuine like it does with you. I thought that feeling I get when I'm with you was gone, I don't know how you know how it feels."

_I know how it feels._

"I thought this was what _normal _adults did. I thought this was how romance is supposed to work."

_I did too._

"I thought that this is what it would be like for the rest of my life, Taft. Trying to fill myself up with that spark that comes from meeting with guys and spreading my legs, kissing when the "time" is right, until I finally get knocked up and get marri-"

She kept going, but I didn't need to hear anymore. What had been shock turned to resolution. I knew what she needed now. After all these years I would fix this, as best I could, as much as I could.

"You."

I withdrew from the heat of her tears and I looked down at her. She shut up, but her lips kept quivering. I hated seeing her like this. I never wanted to see her like this again.

"What about now?"

She kept hiccupping and sniffling. I felt her nails dig into my neck, and I knew she wanted my body blanketing her. She needed me as much as I needed her, but I wasn't about to let her run away from it after all the cards were bared on the table, vulnerable as we shivered together.

"Wh-What…what about now…?"

"Now…not then, or what might happen in the future, You. But _now _. Is th-…" I looked at her hard and I wanted to make sure my words counted. "…am _I _enough?"

"Yes."

…she said that word without a single moment's hesitation. And I could feel myself melt into the blue sparkle of her eyes again.

"_ Yes, _" she said again. "So please don't let m-"

I closed the distance without my mouths to shut her up. I ripped her hands off my neck, and I pinned down her hands with mine. My tongue slid out of her mouth and I looked down at her. My tears splattered on her face.

"So shut up and stop apologizing for things you shouldn't feel sorry for, stop feeling guilty for shit that you don't need to feel guilty for. If I'm enough _now _…then that's all that matters isn't it?"

I kissed her again. And she hiccuped another sob, but I felt her smile. She tasted sweeter than ever, and our mouths stayed like that, as one, wordless.

We said everything we needed to say.

Our kisses melted into each other, running like syrup between our swollen lips. Our skin was sticky with sweat, with cum, with sugar, but we lay there, the two most comfortable people on the planet. I don't know how long we stayed, swapping kiss after kiss. Eventually, her hand told me she wanted just a little more, and then I was inside her again, rocking into her, pushing into her with languid rolls of my hips.

I swept aside the hair that stuck to her forehead, and I kissed her skin. She giggled and said it tickled, and I only kept kissing, fluttering my lips, hips still pushing in and in and in. My hands found purchase in the sides of her head, in those sweaty locks of grey, and I kept pushing into her, kept anointing her with my kisses, kept whispering that we were going to be okay.

Her mouth eventually started flitting against my Adam's apple, and the sex stayed like that, gentle, effortless, warm. We were making love, and we kept making love for as long as we could. It wasn't a race for the pleasure at the end of it; just the warmth found in her arms was pleasure enough.

The past, with all of its mingling warm joys and steely pain was dust. The future, holding all of the potential heartbreak and possible avenues for pain, smoke.

What we had now, was all that mattered.

We laughed together on that bed, sharing jokes, pushing candies into each other's mouths, and it was like nothing had changed-at the same time, it was like everything was better. We didn't discuss anything about what we were now, but we didn't need to; all that mattered now was that we were together. All the answers I needed and wanted in those moments were in those eyes, nestled between her thighs.

The connection we had now was deeper than the length of my dick. I felt like she could see into me, and me into her, see-through.

Looking deeper still, I lost myself in the sparkle of her blue, she was my Pacific.

I found you.

Night fell,

it was a gibbous moon.

**easter.**


End file.
